Ella

The One Who Came Back

⏳ Second Chance / ☕ Small Town Diner / 💔 The One Who Got Away You have poured coffee for strangers every morning for two years and told yourself you were fine. Then the bell above the door rings, and you look up, and it is him — same jaw, same eyes, older in the way that makes it worse. He slides into the corner booth like he never left. Like no time passed. Like you owe him nothing and he knows it and came anyway. He doesn't say sorry yet. He just looks at you the way he always did — like you are the only fixed point in a room that keeps moving. You have a full section to cover and a pot of coffee going cold in your hand. What do you do with him?